


Drink Deep

by alantieislander



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bar Culture, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Drinking, F/M, Humiliation kink, Mention of Death, Mention of dead parents, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, No Pregnancy, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Thrall - Freeform, Victim Blaming, alcohol use, author-fabricated demonology, bar setting, mention of cheating, mention of murder, monster fucking, monsterlore, predatory dating, reference to Kylo/someone else, reference to rey/someone else, sex mixed with violence, vampires monsters demons oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alantieislander/pseuds/alantieislander
Summary: But this man… he doesn’t drag anything in with him. He enters with his own atmosphere, unencumbered by the petty lives around him. And when his eyes land on her, they don’t leave her again. He seems to have found what he came here for, and when his huge body alights onto a bar stool, the waves that roll off of him fucking level mountains. They level Rey.She licks her lips.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 40
Kudos: 107
Collections: 2021 Reylo MonsterLoving Valentines





	Drink Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This is my humble offering for the 2021 Monsterfucking Valentines challenge.
> 
>   
> [](https://imgur.com/lRYJH91)

She’s taken aback when she sees him.

She _never_ looks up when the door opens, she’s usually far too busy. But for some reason she does this time. It’s like she was meant to. More than that - it’s like _he_ meant her to, or the universe did, or something greater than herself. It’s just after midnight on a Monday night, but he’s definitely the most exciting thing that’s opened that bar door since Saturday night - of last year.

He’s clearly new to the area. And different, than his surroundings, than anyone else she’s ever seen. Most patrons drag something in with them - their long day, their best friend, their disappointments and addictions. Their annoying desire to party. She caters to all of them, pouring heavy drinks with a big bright smile. It’s the job after all, and she’s good at it.

But this man… he doesn’t drag anything in with him. He enters with his own atmosphere, unencumbered by the petty lives around him. And when his eyes land on her, they don’t leave her again. He seems to have found what he came here for, and when his huge body alights onto a bar stool, the waves that roll off of him fucking level mountains. They level Rey. 

She licks her lips.

“Hey,” a casual toss of her hair over her shoulder, her patented smile. His expression doesn’t change. “What’ll you have?”

“Good bourbon. One rock.” He says, quietly but clearly. His voice rumbles on a different frequency.

“Knob Creek okay?” she asks. He nods once. She pours quickly and efficiently, the single ice cube chiming when she slides it in front of him. “Cheers.”

He raises it like a salute and takes a sip.

“I’m Rey. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Another nod.

The room is quiet, the tinny sound of background music, the tv, the arcade games occasionally reminding no one that they’re still there. There’s one middle-aged regular playing pool in the back room alone. Two art students are laughing at the table between the pinball machine and the empty cigarette machine that is illegal to operate but has been here so long it's probably structural at this point. A half blind old man who comes in every night is sitting at the other end of the bar. He’s nursing his third beer and listening to a Law And Order SVU marathon warble overhead. Nothing special and everything mundane. 

Except for this man before her.

“Is Rey short for something?” 

His voice startles her, its deep vibration breaks the whole room in half and melts down the pieces. Nobody notices but her.

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ with her lips. Nobody notices but him- his eyes go straight to her mouth. “It’s just Rey. With an ‘e’.”

“Cute.” He says it like he’s being sarcastic, but his head tilts with interest. It makes his long hair fall to one side. She bets it’s soft. Probably smells good.

“Sooooo...are you new to the area?” 

“No, just haven’t been here for awhile. I move around a lot.” He points at her. “ _You_ are the new one.” 

Rey snorts and starts to busy herself with wiping water spots from the pint glasses. “Am I? Feels like I’ve been here forever.”

“If you have, I’m sure I would’ve remembered you,” he drawls, unabashedly looking over her body.

Hitting on the bartender is nothing new, and a man coming in by himself like he did is typically looking for something more than a drink to end the night. It’s fine with Rey. She’s always allowed it when she’s interested and firmly shuts it down when she’s not (she can take care of herself). But this is definitely one of those nights where the anticipation has had her skin prickling since she first saw him, and her intuition is never wrong.

“Oh well,” she says sweetly, winking at him over her shoulder, “we’ll just have to agree to disagree then.” She practically sashays down the bar to check on the old man. Thank God she wore the short skirt today. It was a bold choice for a Monday but it was clearly fate. His eyes are still glued to her.

The old man needs nothing, he’s done for the night. He puts a twenty dollar bill on the counter and carefully gets up with his walking stick under one arm. Rey bids him goodnight, and drifts back to the warm spot in front of her new friend, who seems completely unsurprised to have her attention again.

“I’m pleased it’s so quiet in here,” he says, “Is it always like this?”

“Nah, monday night.”

“My name is Kylo, by the way.”

“Cute,” she mimics him from earlier. He smirks. 

“I grew up in the neighborhood.”

She puts her elbows on the bar and sets her chin on her interlaced hands. “Oh yeah? This bar has been here since the beginning of time. Your parents ever come in here?”

“My parents are dead.” He says it simply. No sadness. It’s clearly not up for discussion. She doesn’t care.

“Pretty sure mine are long dead, too,” she shrugs, “I never knew them.” 

“Lucky.” It’s a joke, but he doesn’t really smile. He keeps glancing at the mirror behind her to look at her ass, exactly like she meant him to. She arches to push it up a little higher, the long line between her thighs disappearing under the hem like a path to the promised land. He’s riveted.

She pours herself a finger of whiskey and holds up her glass. “To dead parents.” 

He clinks the bottom of his glass against hers, the back of his pinky just touching her knuckles. They both take sips, and this time when their hands drop back to the bar, he keeps his firmly against the back of her wrist. 

“So what do you do for a living?”

“Crime,” he answers dryly.

She throws back her head and laughs. “There’s no wrong way to pay the bills, I guess.”

He doesn’t smile. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope. I live alone with an annoying cat named Luke, and I spend most of my days right between this wall of bottles, and this here bar,” she smacks the bar fondly.

“You look good there.”

“Yeah? Well I think you look good here, too.”

“I could get closer,” he offers smoothly, looking down at her body again.

“Hey,” a voice breaks into the haze between them. The art kids stand there expectantly. The one with thick glasses and a homemade beanie pulls out their wallet and tosses a credit card onto the bar like he didn’t even notice that Rey was in the middle of a conversation. “We’re ready to settle up.”

“Oh my god-- okay”, Rey rolls her eyes and grabs the card. The register whines out a receipt after she swipes, and she slams them both down in front of the kid with a pen. “Geez, here.”

He signs quickly and pushes it back at Rey, and leaves with his giggling friend without so much as a thank you.

“That kind of attitude won’t get you a tip,” Kylo muses, swirling his glass.

“It didn’t,” she examines the receipt before shoving it under the cash drawer, “But who’s surprised.” 

“I meant from me.”

It makes her laugh again - the balls on this fucking guy. She turns back to him. “Look, the bar closes in 15 minutes or when that guy leaves” she nods to the back room where the man is still playing pool by himself, “whichever comes first.”

“Mmhm. What's your point?”

“Maybe you should stick around.”

“Think you can earn a better tip?” He’s flirting, but it isn’t cute and carefree. It feels like a dare.

She’s game.

\--

Rey can’t believe he’s following her down here with absolutely zero coaxing. Sometimes it takes another drink or repeated assurances that it's okay, no - they won’t get in trouble, or no - she won’t tell your girlfriend, or no - she definitely won’t be calling you again, she just wants sex with your dumb dick after a long day of slinging drinks. 

But Kylo needs no convincing. The second the pool player leaves the bar, Rey suggests the basement store room, and he wordlessly stands from his barstool and waits for her to lead the way. And instead of it being some immature frat boy from the nice side of town fumbling behind her with questions and comments, it’s HIM, ducking under the pipes that criss-cross the stairwell, somehow graceful and stunningly self-possessed. Him, with his giant hands, the broadness of his shoulders, and that dark, promising way he’s been watching her all night.

The chain of the single light bulb swings after she pulls it, making dizzy shadows on the cinder block walls. He seems to fill the room, his expression both repulsed and deeply unimpressed as he takes it in.

“It fucking reeks down here.”

“Whatever.” Rey pulls off her shirt and tosses it on the shelf behind her, the cold making her nipples instantly hard under her lace bralette. “We take what we can get.” 

His eyes narrow as they zero in on her half naked body.

“Oh you sweet desperate thing,” he mocks, advancing, “bringing a guy to a fucking basement just to get some.”

The shifting shadow of his body stretches above his head, looming larger as he gets closer.

“Like I said - I take what I can get. I guess you’ll have to do for tonight,” she sighs the words like she’s bored and it makes him smirk again, something sinister rippling off of him.

But then those big hands are on her hips, and he’s lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of a broken stool, once a victim of a bar fight. It only has three legs, but the off-balance means she tips straight into his body. Her knees open gladly to receive him.

_Finally._

After an hour of lingering at the edge of the mysterious aura around him, she’s inside it. It’s dark here, quiet. His skin smells unbelievably perfect, and feels both hot and cold under her hands. His hair is as soft as she thought it would be. 

First his plush lips trail along her cheek bone and then he presses his mouth to hers— quickly and assured, as if the unspoken first order of business was to taste her.

His tongue tastes like bourbon, and he’s making tiny little growling noises in his chest as he grinds himself into the warm wedge between her legs. It feels like passion, but every action is practiced and controlled. His kisses are aloof, like he’s better than here, or this, or her.

She opens his pants and pushes them down his hips, boxer briefs and all. He doesn’t bother to help, just keeps mouthing at the space under her ear. 

His cock stretches toward her, and she pulls him back into the cradle of her thighs so the tip nudges at the fabric of her underwear, pushing it against her clit. It makes her ravenous.

“You’re soaked,” he chuckles. With one hand he grabs his cock to rub it against her in small, insistent circles. The cotton pushes into her, overstimulating the bundle of nerves. She lets out a whine, and he presses harder, almost laughing at her. “You gonna beg for it?”

Faster than he probably expects, her hand darts down to pull her underwear aside; her little heels push on the back of his thighs to draw him in. The thick head of his cock eases effortlessly into her body. 

“I don’t need to beg,” she pants as he fills her inch by inch, “look how easy you are.”

There’s a beat of time when she thinks he’s fully seated inside her, but then he thrusts just slightly, his hands grabbing her ass to leverage himself just a little bit deeper, and she lets out a long groan. His breath is controlled and steady, but it’s fraying at the edges. 

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you now,” he whispers, swiveling his hips a bit, hitting a spot that makes her involuntarily buck into him, her channel suddenly slicker as she clenches automatically around him. “Please feel free to scream as loudly as you need to.”

This is the best monday night of her life. 

He clearly knows what he’s doing. The flirtation, the confidence, the absolute control of his body and hers. How many other women has he so perfectly played to get them to this point?

How many women has he made into wet needy bodies for him to fuck? 

Oh well. It doesn’t really matter – she’s his last. 

Her first bite to his neck surprises him, but the second is when she gets purchase. His giant body jolts underneath her, including his cock, and if he thinks he’s going to pull back, she locks her legs around his hips again, jaws and claws sinking as deep as he is inside of her.

“Oh fuck. _What the fuck,_ ” he gasps out as she begins to suck on his throat. He tastes like clove and smoke, steel and bourbon. She can taste his selfishness, his greed, his wickedness, and she knows then that she absolutely made the right choice. This man is not a good man, and now every horrible thing he’s done is hers to reward him for.

Rey can’t remember the last time she chose one to keep. It was probably centuries ago, and they’re long gone. Nowadays it’s usually a fast kill after a nice orgasm, and even that is rare - she doesn’t want to draw any suspicion, after all. She likes her current set up, her little life and her little job and all the dumb, young men she can get. Occasionally she’ll kill the dumb ones, or the young ones with the sweetest blood, but usually its just sex and sending them on their way. But Kylo, well, he was special from the moment she saw him. The look about him, _the vibes_ , as the kids say today. The sharp edge of his personality, the magnetic orbit around his towering body. He was hers, from that very first moment. He is hers now. He’ll be hers forever.

Kylo stays upright and hard long enough for Rey to ride to her own orgasm. She has to take one of his hands and push his thick fingers against her clit, but she gets there, and throws back her head to scream her pleasure into the heavy air of the storage room. That’s when he finally loses consciousness, and falls to the ground in slow motion. She goes with him, her body collapsing on top of him with sated joy, a tired smile on her lips smeared with his blood.

\--

It’s another hour before he regains consciousness.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She’s licking the last of his blood from her extended claws. “I’ve never had one pass out that fast.”

“What the hell was that?” he rasps, struggling to button his pants as he sits up on the dirty floor.

“Just a snack, baby,” she purrs at him.

“What the fuck.” He’s aghast, and pale as a sheet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“Hey now, I didn’t KILL you. Show some gratitude.”

“Kill me?”

“Usually I kill them. But I wanted to keep you.”

“Keep me?” It’s like he’s broken, parroting words back to her with a question mark.

She laughs loudly, abruptly and gleeful, like she did earlier upstairs at the bar. Like she did when she was just a bartender and not the new ruler of his entire silly existence. “Yeah, like a pet. You’re mine now.”

“Yours, how exactly?” he sounds skeptical, which– understandable. But he’s holding the wound on his neck like he takes it seriously enough. 

“It’s called a thrall, I guess, but I don’t do any of that weird religious stuff. I’m just in it for the sex, honestly. Your body is just…” she hums in approval, “and your attitude problem is...” She mimics a chef’s kiss. “So now you come to me, anytime I call.”

“What if I decide to ignore the--”

“Stop talking.” 

His mouth snaps shut.

“Stand up.” 

He scrambles to his feet.

“Open your mouth.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, his plush lips shiny and wet.

“Stick out your tongue.”

She presses down on his tongue with her thumb, claw digging into the muscle. Saliva pools where she pushes. Simultaneously she cups his rapidly hardening cock with her other hand. His hips jumping forward eagerly - against his will, but not hers. An embarrassed tinge of red colors his cheekbones. 

Rey stretches up on her toes to run her lips along the shell of his ear, and then down his jawline. He’s panting just slightly now, his erection straining against the zipper of his pants, blood rushing through his veins. He smells scared and desperate for her. She licks the wound on his neck. He whimpers and sucks on her thumb, so sweetly. So eagerly.

“Exactly like this,” she whispers softly, and kisses his cheek chastely before releasing him entirely. There’s a haze in his eyes and he almost looks like he might chase her thumb with his mouth, or fall to his knees in front of her and beg, but he takes a few big breaths to regain composure. 

Moments pass where there’s nothing but silence, then his shoulders straighten like he’s fully returned to himself and he asks the simple question, “So what now?”

“Now you go back to - what was it again? ‘Crime?’” she quotes him, “You go back to whatever dumb thing you were doing, and come when I call.”

“What if I want to fuck you again?”

“That’s the plan.”

“No, I meant right now.” He’s staring at her intently again, like he did upstairs.

“No, not right now,” she says gently. She feels flattered, almost girlish, with the idea that he wants her beyond her claim of him. Her wicked, insatiable pet. “Go home. Come see me tomorrow.”

He nods and grabs his coat from the random dusty box it found its way onto, and starts for the stairs. Then he stops and turns back to her.

“You didn’t have to bite me, you know. I wanted you before, and I want you now, and I’ll want you again. That’s me -- not your fucking thrall.”

She smiles at his confidence, and shrugs. “I wanted to claim you. And I REALLY wanted to drink from you.”

“You’re welcome to that again, too.” 

“You don’t really have any say in the matter,” she points out, crossing her arms over her chest and regarding him with amusement. He shrugs his big shoulders and starts up the steps. “Kylo?”

He looks back at her from the inky blackness of the stairs, his eyes two white sparks from the lightbulb, all of the angles of his face sharp. The shadows seem to ripple around him, all mystery and promise, like when he first walked into her life only three hours before. “Yeah?”

“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

He nods just once, and disappears into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  I guess Rey is technically a succubus? Or maybe a vampire? I don’t know. I can’t stress how much I didn’t research anything before writing this. My demon knowledge is almost entirely Buffy-based. I made all of this up mostly and wasn’t really clear what she is on purpose. Whatever, it’s fun!
> 
> Thanks and love, as ever, to my beta Lane. <3 (Lane_Reads_Reylo.)
> 
> This is dedicated to the Snails. Daddy loves you.
> 
> I’m on twitter! https://twitter.com/alantieislander


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